we are carried.
in bellies. in arms.
in love. in hope.
in caskets. in memories.
our whole lives
and into the next
we are carried
-Sara Rian
It was just after midnight and I was on my slow ascent out of the underworld. I had spent the last five hours lying on the floor of the maloca, my body staring at the silver Costa Rican jungle dancing under the indifferent moonlight, while the entirety of my interior was dragged through infinite unfolding dimensions of darkness and unthinkable pain from the plant medicine I had drunk earlier in the evening.
I was surrounded by twelve others who were also in the slow transit of returning to this room from the far reaches of wherever the medicine had taken them in the previous hours. To assist our transition, our guides lit a single candle in the center of the room, piercing the darkness we’d all been sharing, sending a silent orange bloom of warm light to blanket us as we returned one by one, fragile and raw.